The Unimportance of a Medical License
by SkyminSlash
Summary: How did the Medic come to be recruited for the Gravel Wars? A Short take on what might have happened.


**Short stories are much easier to write, than chapter long ones...**

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**The Unimportance of a Medical ****License**

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"Ach, fess…"

The small apartment, which had been converted into a doctor's office by the man who rented it, was calm. It was dark in every room, except for a corner which held a desk and a small lamp. In the dingy light, an aging doctor sat, head slumped over the desk, barely supported by his arm. He was studying the letter he had received only hours ago. It was curious how a single letter could destroy someone's career and dreams.

Left frustrated, tired and angry, he tried to come to terms with the news the letter had brought. It was his own fault after all and after his little incident, he knew it was inevitably going to happen. He had been too caught up in the excitement and joy that he failed to realize the consequences that would ultimately occur. All he felt was pure enjoyment over the removal of a man's skeleton.

The doctor had developed a headache due to the exhaustion and stress his body was under. He had taken medication to relieve it, but after an hour, it still hadn't kicked in. Every little noise hit his head like a soft hammer, even the old cuckoo clock sitting atop the mantle on the wall beside him. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, but it was annoying.

_Cuckoo! Cuckoo!_

"Verdammnt!"

The sound that he usually didn't mind, suddenly infuriated him. The high pitched call turned the soft hammer pounding against his temple, into a steel one that was being used by a construction worker trying to beat down a stubborn nail. Grabbing the clipboard on the edge of his desk, he reeled his arm back and threw it at the little bird that popped in and out with every sound. Hitting the bird with a perfect shot, he knocked it off its perch, but with the fallen bird came the clock. Crashing with a sound that just irritated the doctor even more, it broke apart, the body now splintered and destroyed.

"Scheiße…"

He stood up from the chair and walked toward the mess he had created. Picking up the body, he realized that he had destroyed a perfectly good clock in his anger. He had no sentimental attachment to it, unlike his mother, whom it had previously belonged to, but breaking a working item out of an emotional tantrum was something that just angered him even more.

_Knock, Knock!_

The doctors eyes widened and he dropped the broken clock. Almost jumping from the squatting position he was in, the doctor bolted for the back door of the building. Company at this time of night only meant trouble for himself.

Flinging the door open, he failed to look in front of himself as he tried to bolt out of the door. He collided with a large and solid object, causing him to fall onto his back. Looking up to the object he had hit, he saw that it was actually a man, whose face could not be seen, due to the collar of the trench coat and hat he was wearing.

Standing up and brushing himself off, he looked at the man, "Vhat do you vant vith me?" By just looking at his attire, the doctor knew this person was not from the government, so he didn't have to be worried as much as he had been, but on the other hand, that could also make it worse, depending on who he was dealing with.

In a voice that would not have been distinguishable in a crowd of people, he pointed behind the doctor and said, "Talk to the lady." He then stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Turning around, the doctor saw a lady walking towards him, her heels clicking on the tile floor. Dressed properly, she wore a purple buttoned down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and a black skirt that was form fitting. Adjusting her glasses and pushing her short black hair behind her ears, she greeted the doctor with a smile.

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Miss Pauling," she extended her arm out and offered her hand.

Giving a firm handshake, while watching her carefully, he replied, "Joseph Artz. Might I ask vhy you have…trapped me in my own office?"

"Oh, Doctor, you don't need to be fearful. I am simply here to conduct business on behalf of my employer," she pointed to the man he had ran into, "He's just helping me to make sure that you hear our proposition."

Joseph, skeptical, narrowed his eyes at her, "Vhat sort of proposition?"

"I am here to offer you a job," she took the clipboard in her hands and handed it to him, "My employer is confident that you will not decline it."

Her disposition remained cheery and polite, yet had some sort of unseen authority about her. He looked at paper, which held a job description. After reading the summary he hesitated to say, but said, "I have just recently…eh…lost my medical license."

"That is precisely why my employer has chosen you."

He looked at her with a quizzical look, then continued to read the papers on the clipboard.

"You see, we are looking for someone who has ideas and is not afraid to break some laws to do so. Our company controls half of the governments in the world, including Germany's. A medical license is nothing to worry about, and if you become employed with us, won't be a problem."

"It says zhe position is field medic, vhich usually means var, and so will I be fighting?"

"Yes," he gave a small nod of understanding, "Tell me, have you heard of the Gravel Wars that have been going in America?"

"Nein, zhe only var I have heard of is zhe Vietnam War vhere zhe Americans have stupidly been sending troops in."

"Good, that means we're covering our tracks," she said, ignoring the rest of his thought, "You will work with 8 other men, all specializing in a certain field that is beneficial to the others. Traveling will be a common occurrence, as we have several bases set up in the Badlands, which will require to be defended when need be, and an occasional mission might be given for you and the rest of the team to take care of. Remember, this is a war. We are contracting you as a mercenary."

He was getting impatient, "all of zhis sound ridiculous. Vhat makes your employer zhink I vill fight in some secret var zhat no one has ever heard of?"

Miss Pauling looked to the man who had stopped him and game him a nod. Suddenly, he opened his trench coat and with a flash of light, momentarily blinding Joseph, that quickly dimmed, strapped to the man's chest was a small TV, with the visage of an elderly woman dressed in a purple woman's suit.

"Good evening Doctor Artz, I expect that my assistant has already explained to you the basics of the job?"

Astonished, he squinted his eyes at the picture, confused at what he saw before him.

"Doctor, this is a two way communicator. That means you can respond…" the woman said, slightly irritated at his dumbfoundness.

He backed up and stood, hands behind his back like he always did, "Ah yes, of course…zhe frauelien has already explained it to me, but I am…" he hesitated.

"You are indecisive and skeptical of a job where you participate in a war that seems to be purely fictional?"

"Ja."

The woman reached to her side and brought a briefcase into view. Unlatching the lock, she revealed the contents to the camera. Stacks upon stacks of U.S. dollars, all 100's, were crammed inside the case, covering both the bottom and top. His eyes lit up, and he gave a smirk. "I believe I have your attention now. We will pay you $350,000 a month as well as supply the funds and state of the art equipment needed for any sort of experiments you want to conduct, even inhumane ones."

Pulling himself away from the monetary temptation, he cleared his throat and asked, "Vhy are you offering zhis job to me?"

"You have certain qualities that we are looking for and according to my sources, you seem to have developed a serum that rapidly increases the rate of a person's natural healing factor. That is something we are very interested in."

His eyes widening, this time in shock, Joseph's mouth gaped slightly and he stuttered, "H-how could you possibly know about zhat…"

"Doctor, if there is something that interests use, then we will find it. We were in search of someone who does not care about the wellbeing of a test subject, and is intelligent enough to develop new technologies that could possibly be used in warfare. So, Doctor Artz, what is your decision?"

His eyes wandered back to the briefcase that still sat in her lap. He had always been greedy when it came to money, always wanting more and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to satisfy all his desires. Promises of full reigns on any experiments he could think up seemed too good to be true, and while a part of him was doubtful, another was urging him to take a chance and go for it.

He was going to take a chance.

"Ja, I vill accept it."

"Good. We will have a plane ready for you in the morning. You may take any belongings that you might have with you, but we will have medical equipment prepared for you upon arrival to the base. My assistant Miss Pauling will pick you up and take you to the airport, where you will board a plane to New Mexico. Have we come to an understanding?"

"Ja," he replied, nodding his head.

"We look forward to having you under our employment," and with that, the TV flickered out.

The man closed his coat back up and walked to Miss Pauling's side.

"Looks like I will be seeing you in the morning doctor," she said, a smile on her face that couldn't be distinguished as being genuine or not, "I'll pick you up at 8 o'clock. Have a goodnight."

And with that, she and the man exited the building, leaving Joseph standing there, ultimately confused as to what had just occurred. In all honesty, he couldn't believe what had just happened. Within the span of 10 minutes, he had gone from losing his medical license to getting a job that didn't care about one, paid him a hefty amount of money and allowed him to fulfill his desires to experiment. In all of his scrambled thoughts, he came up with a question whose answer satisfied him and brought a grin to his face.

Who needed a medical license to practice medicine?

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**Might do a compilation of stories surrounding Miss Pauling recruiting the mercenaries...I really should finish what I've started, before this.**


End file.
